


Learning, Unlearning

by Caaaaaaas



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Doctor Strange (2016) Spoilers, M/M, Tony Stark Has A Heart, dr strange - Freeform, some swearing involved, stephen deserves to be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 17:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14795091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caaaaaaas/pseuds/Caaaaaaas
Summary: Whatever Stephen wanted with life, life just didn’t seem to know what to do with him.In which Stephen learns and unlearns some very important lessons.





	Learning, Unlearning

If anyone had asked a young Stephen Strange what he wanted to pursue when he grew up, he never would have said medicine. He didn’t want to think about the amount of hassle, cost, and _time_ it would consume, and what was it worth? Putting his own parents in the position of funding him for the next 10 to 20 years, while other parents are busy enjoying retirement? Sacrificing every bit of his time towards saving a total stranger? He wasn’t exactly the Captain America-selfless-type. He loved his parents and siblings, and life in their farm in Nebraska couldn’t have been any better for a middle-class family like them.

And then everything went to shit.

\-------

“Steph, come down and have breakfast!” 

“Yes, mom!” He called. 

Stephen jumped out of bed, heading to the bathroom and immediately reaching for the toothbrush on the sink counter. He brushes his teeth, splashes some water on his face, and towels off the rest of the moisture. Satisfied, he heads back to his room, rummaging through his closet for some decent clothes: a shirt and some loose pants. Putting them on, he heads downstairs to see his family already sitting around the dining table: his father Eugene, reading the newspaper and paying his slowly cooling coffee no mind; his mom Beverly, scooping up some scrambled eggs onto an empty plate and placing it before Stephen’s spot on the table; and his younger sister Donna, who seemed to be shoving as much eggs she can in her mouth as a 10-year-old kid can muster. 

“Woah, what’s got you in a hurry?” Stephen chuckled, sitting across from his sister. 

“MmmMmMmm-“ Donna replies, small bits of egg flying out of her mouth. 

“Donna, chew with your mouth closed,” their mother reprimanded sternly. 

“YmmMmm,” she replies, his a tone vaguely sounding like ‘yes mom’ 

Stephen smiled at his sister. “You haven’t answered my question.” 

Donna swallows the last bit of scrambled egg, fixing him with a I’m-not-telling-you-gaze. “Guess.”

“You finally stopped wetting the bed?” 

“Ew, I never wet the bed, you jerk!” 

“Donna, _language_ ,” their mom reprimands again. 

“But _Mooom_ ,” Donna whines, giving her the puppy eyes. 

Beverly cracks a smile, tucking a strand of dark hair behind Donna’s ear “Just be careful with your words, sweetheart.” 

“Yes, mom,” Donna flashes her mother a smile, then immediately whips her head around, giving her brother the evil eye. 

“Well, let me guess, then. Hmmm..” Stephen exaggerates a thoughtful expression, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Sammy Bullard invited your sister to his party,” his father announced triumphantly as he sets down his paper, to his sister’s disbelief and betrayal. 

“Daaaaad!” She exclaims, face immediately taking on a shade of pink. 

“Oh my god, _the_ Sammy Bullard that Donna’s only been gushing about for months?” Stephen teases. 

“Nooooooooo,” his sister covers her face with both palms, rocking slightly in her chair in embarrassment. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Stephen whoops.

“Actually, Stephen, I was going to ask you to accompany her there,” his father said. 

“Me? Why would I want to join their kiddie party?” Stephen answered incredulously. 

“Donna needs a ride, and someone to watch over her. But,” he emphasized, “You have to promise to be back by 7.”

Stephen sighs. 

This time, Donna triumphantly shakes her fists. “Suck it, brother!” 

“ _Donna_!” 

“Sorry, mom!” 

\------- 

The party was okay, as teenage parties normally go. Stephen grudgingly admits, Sammy Bullard’s house was actually pretty nice. A two-storey building lined with full-length windows, two pools where a backyard was supposed to be, a barbeque, and some tables pushed together serving ample snacks and non-alcoholic drinks, where Stephen hung around for the most part. 

From the comfy beach chair where he was sitting, Donna was having the time of her life; splashing and chasing around her best friend, Wendy Lane in one of the pools. They were veering toward the deep end, but Stephen was keeping a close eye, trusting their judgment. He takes out his phone, opening up a game but quickly becoming bored by it. 

_Damn, I should’ve brought a book._

He shoves the phone back in his pocket, feeling in his other pocket for the.. _Oh shit. The car keys._

_Shit shit shit._

Stephen rummages in both pockets in panic, standing up from the chair. He looks under it, getting on his knees to check if he dropped them anywhere nearby. _It’s somewhere here, I just need to retrace my steps._ He turns around, walking back out through the house gate. 

“Shit, Dad’s gonna kill me,” he mutters as he pays rapt attention to the ground, searching left and right for any dropped keys. Stephen walked slowly, so as not to miss an inch of the ground. Nearing his black Nissan, he spots a glint of metal on the pavement. He rushed to it, picking it up swiftly. “Aha!” He exclaimed. Glancing towards the sky, Stephen notices how dark it had gotten. “Better get back,” he said, standing up and pocketing the keys. 

A siren wails. It seems to be getting louder by the second. Stephen cocks his head, spotting an ambulance rushing towards his general direction. His insides churned. _Please don’t stop here._

But stop it did, directly in front of the Bullards’ home. A paramedic burst out through the back. Spotting Stephen, she approaches him. “Hello, is this the house of Sammy Bullard? We received a call that someone is in need of medical attention.” Stephen was speechless. “Yes, this is the place. What is this about?” he blurt out. 

“Please, lead the way,” the paramedic said hurriedly, striding towards the gate, two others in tow. 

Stephen barely keeps up with them, a horrible feeling bubbling in his gut. He rushes to the poolside, fearing the worst. The paramedics are pulling someone, a girl, out of the water.

_Donna._

They are trying to revive her, to no avail. They quickly put her on a stretcher, carrying her off. Stephen is shell-shocked. One of the paramedics, the first one to appear, places a hand on his back, gently guiding him to follow. He does, and in a haze, gets in the ambulance with his now-unconscious sister. Her lips are blue, her face clammy, with her dark hair stuck to her skin in a disheveled mess. Every bit of his vibrant, annoying little sister gone. Even after they take her to the hospital and Stephen waits before the closed doors, he is in disbelief. 

_She looked so small._

Little did he know that those were her last moments. 

\------- 

“Stephen, we can’t send you to medical school,” his father sighs for the nth time. 

“And why the hell not, dad?” Stephen seethes. 

“It’s too expensive.” 

“I can work while doing my studies. You know I can.” 

“Who’ll run the farm?” 

“I don’t know, or care, just sell it or something!” Stephen burst out. 

His father actually looked hurt. “The farm is my whole life. It brought food to this table, provided for us, sustained us since you were born.” 

Stephen didn’t waver. 

“Look, I know you blame Donna’s _death_ ,” he winces, “on yourself.” 

“Because it IS my fault!” 

“It was not your fault, Stephen.” 

“Bullshit! You sent me with her so I could look after her. Look how shit of a job I’ve done!” Stephen lets out a strangled sob. 

His father wore an equally pained expression on his face. “No one could have done better.” 

They’ve had this argument for months since Donna’s death. After his parents arrived in the hospital, they all sat quietly in companionship, lost in their own thoughts. It felt like years later when the doctor emerged from behind the doors, wearing a grave expression. Stephen immediately understood what was coming. His sister is dead. 

_Oh God_. 

And it was his fault. 

If you asked his parents, they’d of course say otherwise. Stephen believed in a lot of things his parents said, _except_ that. 

Donna’s death was his doing. 

_I had one fucking job. And I couldn’t even do it right_.

If Stephen was ever doubtful of what his career would be, he had absolutely no question about it now. 

He’d become a doctor. 

\------- 

Once he set foot on the path towards his medical career, time seemed to pick up speed. Memorizing, studying, practicing everything required of him and more, Stephen easily became known by his professors as the best student. God forbid this did anything to help his ego, which at one point was said to rival even the great Tony Stark. When a colleague did actually mention that to him, he scoffed at them. 

“You underestimate me.” 

During med school, Stephen worked day and night, losing any semblance of family, and the amount of times his parents had tried reaching out to him. To no avail. So it came to his surprise when one day, he receives a call from a hospital, announcing his mother’s death. Huntington’s disease. No cure. A neurodegenerative disease was eating her up from the inside, and he didn’t know because _he shut her out_. 

So he wept, picked himself up, and soldiered on. 

He joined the neurosurgery residency. 

\------- 

When everything finally seemed to go up for _the_ Doctor Strange, life always threw him a curveball. This time, it came in the form of a destructive car accident mangling his hands, his most prized possession. 

Years of hardship brought to nothing by a few careless seconds. 

Life was cruel to him, like a fucked up, Sisyphus kind of story. To think he’d reached the very top, only to hit rock bottom once again. 

_I was the best. What the fuck happened?_

He imagined everyone he’d ignored, humiliated, and roasted would be laughing at him now. 

What had Stephen become? 

\------- 

“Arrogance and fear still keep you from learning the simplest and most significant lesson of all."

"Which is?"

“ _It's not about you_."

His learnings of magic had been just as difficult as the unlearning of his self-destructive ways. And yet, he still had so much to learn. 

Life may have put him through utter shit, but he always found a way to excel through it. In this current situation, he had no idea how to defeat Kaecilius and his followers. 

So when everything seemed to fall apart, the three Sanctums destroyed, the Ancient One dead, and the dark dimension closing in, Doctor Stephen Strange remembered the wisest words ever spoken to him. _It’s not about you._

“Thank you, Ancient One,” he whispered to himself. Stephen readied the time stone. He knew what to do. 

“Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain.” 

\------- 

Of all the things Stephen imagined himself becoming, taking the noble position of Sorcerer Supreme was the least likely occurrence. And yet, here he was. Of course, that entailed his responsibility over _dimensions_ of reality. It isn’t some just lives that are at stake here, but perhaps the existence of life itself. And just like that, some big-ass purple douchebag comes and threatens _just that._ How conveniently timed. 

They’re gathered in the dusty New York Sanctum, with Tony Stark leaning carelessly against a sacred artifact. He means to swat him away, but the Cloak does it for him. He makes a mental note to thank it later. 

They argue back and forth. He explains his position very clearly. As protector of the time stone, he scoffs at Stark’s suggestion. 

“Stick it down a garbage chute? Really?” 

“Or hand it to him nice and easy. Your call, Doctor.” Stark shrugs. 

“No, _yours_ ,” he nods at the flip phone. “I understand my role as Sorcerer Supreme very much, thank you, and the stone will not be given easily on my watch. Not even over someone’s life,” he declares coldly. 

But oh, how wrong he was. 

The universe plays another cruel trick on him, showing the ONE outcome out of 14,000,605 that works out involves him _giving up_ the stone. 

He’d prefer _literally_ anything over hearing Tony’s almost certain “I told you so.” Well, except perhaps the extinction of half the universe. 

“It was the only way,” he reassures Tony before he disappears into ashes. 

And now we wait. 

\-------

A few weeks after Thanos is defeated, Stephen is adamant at vigilance in the Sanctum. It drives Wong crazy. 

So much so that, he calls a friend and only a few minutes later, an extremely flamboyant car pulls up outside Bleecker Street. 

Tony Stark then strides into the Sanctum as if he owns it, and heads to what looks to him as Strange’s office. He spots the doctor there staring intently into a crystal, barely even noticing the inventor’s entrance. He deliberately drops himself loudly into an empty armchair, putting his feet up on what looked to be an ancient stool. That seems to snap Strange out of his concentration, but he mumbles a short “put your feet down,” and continues doing whatever the hell he is doing. And now Tony is pissed. 

“Strange. Hey, Strange. Doctor! Will you listen to me for a sec?” 

“Can’t, busy.” 

“That crystal is empty. At this point, you’re just hallucinating whatever is it you’re seeing in there.” 

Strange finally raises his eyes, and he looks utterly fatigued and pale. 

“Hey, no more mind games, Doctor. Get some sleep. You look like shit,” Tony said. 

“Gee, thanks, Tony.” 

“I mean it,” Tony says, pouring himself and Strange some tea. “And that’s coming from me. When was the last time you got a good night’s sleep?” 

“Not since Thanos,” Stephen said, sipping from the ceramic. 

“My point exactly! Where is the guy who once told me that being _okay_ is enough for the time being?” 

“The Universe-“ 

“-can wait,” Tony finishes. 

Stephen sighed, “A wise person once told me ‘It’s not about you,’” 

“And was the fate of the universe at stake then?” Tony asks. 

“Very much so.” 

“Is it now?”

“Well, there’s no imminent threat yet, but-“ 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Tony wags his finger. “That’s enough with you. Now, I’m going to head down to my car and bring up a stash of food. Do not,” he says pointedly, “think about resuming your work while I’m gone. Understand?”

“Fine,” Stephen bites out. “I suppose I do need the rest.” _The universe can wait for a while._

While Tony rushes down, Stephen quickly scribbles a note, leaving it on the stool. 

Lugging up a huge bag of groceries, containing snacks, drinks, and a bunch of ingredients he thinks Stephen might need for his self-care session, Tony grunts with effort. 

_God, I am getting old._

He arrives on the landing to see the Sorcerer Supreme curled up in his huge armchair, having the most peaceful sleep since forever. The Cloak has covered him up to his chin like a blanket, and Tony thinks how fucking _cute_ he looks like this. He drops into the empty armchair, food left right next to it. 

He sees a little piece of paper, assuming it was written by Stephen. 

“ _Thank you, Tony. Please wake me if something comes up_.”

He smiled. 

When Stephen wakes up hours later Tony is gone, but there is a suspiciously delicious-smelling bowl of steaming chicken soup on the stool, placed over what seems to be a makeshift hotplate made from nanobots. There’s also a note attached. 

“ _No_.” 

Stephen chuckled, digging into the chicken soup.

**Author's Note:**

> After unexpected the reception I got from my first ao3 fic, here comes another. 
> 
> Decided to write a Strange version for this :) 
> 
> Enjoy! Please leave a kudos & comments if you like it


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